Companion, Friend, Savior, - More?
by TempestJuvano
Summary: Does John Reese like me? Do I like John Reese? A tale of Companionship - of finding out that a person can give you so much comfort.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

 _Hello, John._

 _Hey, Clary. May I come in?_

 _Of course._

I let John Reese inside. It was cold outside, and he shivered a little as he took off his long black coat.

I went to the kitchen and emerged a few minutes later with a hot cup of coffee.

I had gotten used to John dropping in at odd nights, sometimes looking haggard and sleepy. I didn't really know what he did, but I had an idea that I shouldn't find out.

You see, we met in the most unconventional way.

He was undercover at a book signing. And I was in line for the signature. He approached me; we began to talk, about the author, and books. Naturally, the talk gravitated towards reading and literature, and we walked out together out of the local library-cum-bookstore, and he very kindly walked me home.

And that very night, a person happened to break into my house. I was to be a part of an elaborate kidnapping scheme, and would have been, had John, not appeared on the scene.

To this day he doesn't openly tell me how he knew to come to my house. He told me he had information that this would happen; to be frank it hurt a little to find out that our acquaintance was not a spontaneous one. However, you tend to forgive a fellow when he happens to save your life.

(By-the-way, I am not anybody so important or rich to get kidnapped – my mother is. Owns a couple breweries and bars, but I digress – this isn't relevant to this story too much)

The coffee is great, Clary.

Thanks, John. Want more?

No, thank you.

I have a little lasagna leftover. Want it?

I – Yes. I'm famished.

John saved my life that day. How I don't know. All I know is that my house had been broken in, and as I sat in the dark in my bed, I heard people getting knocked about.

Anyway, that night John took me to his house, where we met his friend. His friend, Mr. Finch, looks so much like a kindly professor. He has great taste in books, and as I talked to him, I realized that some way it had been his words in John's mouth at the library.

How come you're up so late?

I was reading a new book.

Naturally.

John smiled as he said it.

So, are you going to finish it tonight?

Yes. This is an interesting one.

Do you mind if I-

Oh, no, please. You look very tired.

I am.

John moved towards the next room, shrugging of his Suit-jacket. It looked fancy, but dusty – as though it had been lying on the sidewalk.

Would you like anything special for breakfast?

Just the regular.

I liked it when he came to stay over. Sometimes he just came over, chatted, ate and left. One time, he was so uncommunicative, that I was a little alarmed. He just sat on the sofa, leaning back, for hours. He insisted that I go to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to still find him sitting there like that. That was actually the first time he'd stayed over – I asked him to take a nap in the bed.

He'd looked at me for a minute. I told him I didn't mean anything by it other than resting, and he laughed a short laugh, almost like a bark.

But he did come to bed and snuggled in so quietly that I didn't know he was in there till morning.

But ever since then, he tends to come over, never more than twice a week, sometimes none.

Good morning, John.

I had gotten up to see John already dressed.

You can use the shower, I won't mind.

That's alright.

He moved towards to kitchen, and so did I.

We had breakfast, and immediately John turned to leave.

Another job? This early?

Yeah. I actually need to somewhere very urgently.

Okay, then. I'll see you.

He turned around at the door when I said this, a sad yet amused smile on his face.

Sure. I'll see you.

Just like that, he was gone.

I get up earlier than usual whenever John's been staying since he tends to leave very early. Lately, he's been coming more often, and I have kind of gotten used to him. I think perhaps both of us have a lonely home. I have always liked it, until now, when I find myself getting comfortable with another person in my home.

Another thing about us, I realized, is that we can stay silent for long periods of time, and not be bothered by it. Most people find that unnatural in me, taking me to reserved or shy – I can be as bold as brass when I wish to be.

I think John finds comfort in the fact that I don't expect him to speak, or tell me anything.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

John was here yesterday. He looked extremely angry, except it didn't show in his voice. His voice was tired.

I was rather scared yesterday, the way he appeared, his coat in his arms, a tie – I have never seen him wear a tie before – the tie was askance and a shirt only half tucked in.

I was surprised because it had been only two days since his last visit – the frequency was unexpected.

Hey, Clary. Can you let me in?

Of course, John, are you okay?

Yes, _I'm_ mostly okay.

Then who's not?

John looked at me sharply but did not answer.

Here, let me help you with that tie. It looks as if it's been in a brawl.

Again, that intent look. John's intense gaze is quite intimidating.

Thanks, clary. I don't really like wearing these.

I'll get something to eat –

No, no. That's alright. If you don't mind, I'd like a drink, if you have any.

He certainly looked like he could use one. For once, I wanted to ask him – ask where he's been, what he's been doing. But I suppose this is part of the job that had once led him to me – and I have firsthand seen him handle three people in a fistfight.

I sometimes itch to ask him about his life – his job – but the questions die on my lips. I think – I think I'm afraid of the answer.

Sometimes there is a haunted look in his eyes that keep darting around the room, as though scanning for danger.

Hmm. This is good Whiskey. I didn't know you kept any.

I don't, actually. I borrowed some from Mr. Leaven next-door. I know for a fact that he's a fanatic of good alcohol.

Oh. Well, this is first-rate. Just what I needed.

Um… John?

Yes?

Are you okay? I don't mean physically. Are you alright – is everything – fine?

There are things sometimes so intense, or complicated, - or-or confusing, which makes it difficult to articulate them. Worries are like that – intense, complicated, or confusing. Why do I worry SO much? What am I worrying about? Why do I worry anyway?

But at that moment in front of John, the fear that something might be wrong beyond normal proportions – fear, mind you not worry – the fear took over and made me ask that question. I'm sure John's understood what I mean – what I'm asking really.

But I'm afraid he doesn't want to talk. And it scares me. I don't know why, but it does.

John looked at me, into my eyes, and I could see him think.

Think about what I had asked. About what had happened to him that evening, about what – whatever he had done, and about-about the way things are, I suppose in his life.

He may be thinking about entirely different things, but I believe that eyes don't lie. And I read those thoughts in his eyes that day.

He got entirely lost in his own reminiscence – so much so that he forgot I'd asked him anything.

Good morning, John.

Good morning.

Would you mind going out for breakfast? I'm afraid I missed out on grocery shopping for this week.

No, not at all. You should get dressed.

Yes, give me a few minutes.

.

I'd like pancakes and some tea, please.

The same for me, except I'd like coffee. Make it strong.

This place has good pancakes. I come here when I can.

Oh…. Clary?

Yeah?

Sometimes I feel like the world is topsy-turvy, and that – that –

The land under feels like the sea and sky pours down?

Something like that.

Okay…

And I'm mostly used to it. But some days you just get tired of the chaos – and –

Here's your order!

Thank you.

John, you were saying?

I – I just needed a little adjustment last night. The Machine is continuously running.

And he smirked.

I confess, I didn't understand what he meant that day, whether he meant to make sense or not. But he looked like he'd said something and let it out. There are some things, that may never be conveyed by words – these things are too powerful for words to hold and bind. Only eyes may speak, and understand these things – but sometimes even the heart doesn't know what it has understood.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Hey, Clary.

Hey, Jo- Oh!

Woof!

Who is that?

This is Bear. Bear, this is Clary.

Hello, Bear.

Bear solemnly shook paws with me and proceeded to check out my home.

You have a dog?

Yeah. Mostly he keeps Finch Company, but sometimes he likes to go out with me. I thought I'd introduce him to you.

Thank you. He is such a great dog.

Yeah, that he is.

You're just in time for dinner - although, for Bear, I don't think I have anything.

That's fine – I have his biscuits right here.

That day felt like a milestone in our friendship. Bear is a wonderful dog, although the Dutch commands sound so funny to my ears.

That day John was so much – well, like any other man. And so relaxed. We had dinner; we fed some biscuits to Bear and took him out for a walk.

John, why isn't Bear going to sleep?

Because he's on guard duty.

Why?

I'm training him to guard when we're asleep.

Ohkay…

Good night, Clary.

Good night, John.

I woke up in the middle of the night and saw Bear in his sleeping position. I was glad that he was getting some sleep, but when I stirred and got to go to the kitchen for some water – he woke up, stiffened and – and looked at all the corners of the room before looking at me.

It was like he knew I'd woken up, and was scanning my environment for threats – with the uncanny impression of his master – John does that too when he wakes up: He scans the area, before getting up, and then again looks everywhere before relaxing and getting out of the bed.

I'd seen John do that on multiple occasions. Although I know he works a dangerous field, saving others as he saved me – but going this far in alertness – it reminded me of a soldier.

Most of John's habits are soldierly – very disciplined, calculated and necessary movements only. He answers in a lengthy fashion only when asked to, and he gets to the point without any prologue. His being a soldier earlier in his life would explain so much of his behavior. –

And I suddenly notice that I am getting very curious about my friend.

John is probably the most intriguing man I have met. I am the most non-curious person on earth – yet John interests me. I keep thinking, guessing, trying to understand him. Why?

I have gotten used to him, in my home. He feels like a part of it now. And that feeling gives me satisfaction, although I don't understand why.

.

.

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Author's note: I realize this is a short chapter, and I apologize. Next one will be longer, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

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Hey, Clary.

Hello, John.

Then there was one day when things changed a little for me and John.

As a rule, we rarely mentioned John's job or any details of John's present life. We NEVER discussed his past life. There would be fleeting references of Mr. Finch, and he knew that I understood that whenever a call came, he had to go.

The surprise about that day was a bridge – from my life to John's job.

Um, Clary?

Yes, John?

I wanted to ask you something.

Okay, sure. What is it?

Are you free this Saturday?

This Saturday? Wait a second, let me check. – Yeah. I have no plans in the evening.

Good, because I'd like you to accompany me to a Ball.

A Ball? Like dancing?

Yeah, yes, I mean, there will be some dancing – it's mostly for a benefit, and I need to be present – but I need a date.

Oh – it's a social event.

Yes. – (after a pause) so, will you come?

Um, John – is this – are you –

It's not like -

Doing this for a job?

Yes. Yes. Otherwise, we wouldn't be spending the weekend at a stuffy party like that.

We?

I was glad he couldn't see any expressions on my face of surprise. I hadn't realized how much I considered him a friend, a permanent part of my life until he said 'We'.

And I was glad that he considered me a part of his life too.

.

John?

Yes, Clary?

Can we move?

Is anything wrong?

Um, actually, not so much wrong, but a little uncomfortable – these people –

I understand. Let's dance.

…

You dance really well, John.

You too. I didn't know you could –

Dance? You missed that when you looked me up.

Yes. Finch must have either forgotten to tell me, or you didn't take dance lessons.

I didn't, actually. My cousin taught me.

Which one?

Guess.

Not the accountant, not him, he looks too – well, doesn't look like he can dance. So it's definitely the Spanish cousin – Ian or something – from your mother's side.

Well done, Mr. Reese! You'd get full points, but you got the name wrong – it's Immanuel.

Maybe I can make up the lost points with another dance?

Yeah okay…

And so we danced all night. He told me he'd successfully managed to do whatever job he had at that benefit, despite spending so much time with me on the dance floor. He did disappear for half an hour, and when I went looking for him –

Well in short, what I found was a slightly out of breath John, and two fellows sprawled out on the floor of the large kitchen in that mansion. I raised my eyebrows at Reese, and he motioned me with his head – to move out. After a few minutes and a little more noises, he came out, his suit in his hands.

And he really does credit to his body - dancing with him reminded me of all the times I spent with cousin Manu, dancing on the beach.

Hey, Clary?

Yes, John?

Thanks, you know. For tonight.

Thank you, John. I had fun. I really enjoyed myself. And I hope you did get to do what –

Yeah, we did it - couldn't have done it without you, really.

So are you going to come in, and tell me what happened in the kitchen with those guys, or –

The job's not completely done yet – I have to be somewhere else right now.

Oh. I – I could have come home by myself, John. You didn't need to –

No. I did. I needed to. … Goodnight, Clary.

Goodnight, John.

To be honest, I don't care what his job was that day. I just – it was one of the most beautiful nights I have ever spent like this. I wouldn't trade that night's memory for anything. I just wish – wish that John didn't have to go.

But that charming man, he did think thoroughly – because the next morning, he dropped by to wake me up, with a gift of tea and breakfast, delivered to me by the sweetest messenger ever – Bear!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

.

Hey Clary.

Hi, John. Come in.

What's cooking? Something smells nice.

Oh. I'm trying out a new dish. It's Indian.

Indian?

Yeah. It's vegetarian, actually, and the taste is unbelievable. It's a good thing that you dropped by today – You get to taste it now.

That day's John was so much different than any other John I had seen. He had a black, slightly loose T-shirt on, jeans, and a few petals and grassy leaves sticking to the back of his shirt. His shoes were muddy, but his face was very relaxed and smiling today. but the best thing - small yellow and red flowers, four-five tiny ones, were sticking out of his hair! I smiled broadly at them, but he appeared to not have noticed.

Bon appetite!

Mmm. Clary, this is tasty. A little spicy, but tasty.

Thank you, John. I'm glad you liked it. How was your day?

A good one today. I had to save a flower thief.

 _Save_ a flower thief? Do people steal flowers?

Yeah, I'm afraid they do. And they do so fatally.

Well, what do you know? Life gets a little more quirky every day. And it explains your accessories today.

My accessories?

There are flowers in you hair, John - wait, let me get them.

.

A side note - I have never seen a man look better in flowers.

.

So you won?

Won?

Yeah – your task – you managed to do it successfully, didn't you?

Yes. Yes, I did. I won.

You won.

You have no idea, reader, how much there was to read on John's face that day, at that one word. I didn't know until then, that John had perhaps never considered himself as the gainer or winner of anything – his face, his eyes, no matter how much he tried, I could see the changes in emotions that day, as I tried to tell him that he is a winner.

So, what did you do today, besides cooking?

Nothing special, really.

No?

Is shopping for office supplies and stationary special for you?

Well, I've never tried it.

In that case, it's extremely special, and the most wonderful activity of an office. You get to choose the color of your document trays, try out new paper types; pick out designs of envelopes, and package sheets, and a hundred other things. New diaries and notebooks come out; there are new pencils and pens, and colorful erasers, and pen-stands, and shredders, and a lot more things!

You seem very enthusiastic about stationary.

I am. It's my thing.

Your thing?

Yeah. A stack of white plain sheets, crisp and clean, a bunch of newly sharpened pencils, a beautiful inkstand and a shining new pen beside it – I love the sight of these things.

Didn't you have writing table here?

I did. – It broke. You know, during your – fight. I did look at a few tables after that, but I haven't found another one like it. I'm still looking.

Good luck then, at finding your perfect table.

Thank you, John.

.

Ever since that ball, we hadn't spent a normal night like this. This felt like slipping into your home slippers after spending a day wearing atrocious heels, that by-the-way, look extremely great on you. But no matter how many compliments those heels may bring, nothing beats the relief and comfort that you feel in your slippers.

John had then become a relief and comfort to me, after a battle with the world. It felt like he felt the same towards me, as he relaxed that night on the sofa, beside me, watching a silly movie, before going to bed. It was ordinary and yet felt surreal.

.

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Author's note: I apologize for the short length of this chapter. I will try to write the next one longer. Thank you for reading. Please let me know any suggestions or encouragements!

Also, do remember this chapter - I have a feeling a tiny thing from this is related to a future chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

.

I came early from work that day since I had a date. I met a guy at a conference the week before, and he seemed to be a good person. So when he asked me out for dinner today, I accepted.

It had been almost two weeks, and I'd begun to feel lonely, without John dropping in and out. I didn't know where he was, or what he was doing out there – but I just – I don't know, his not being around as much as before had begun to become noticeable to be, and -

Well, maybe it was bothering me.

Anyway, it was kind of a pleasant surprise to be asked out – people normally don't consider me social enough maybe, but I don't get asked out so much.

I wanted to go for an early dinner, because I didn't know the person very well, and wanted to leave a chance for reviving my night if the dinner went badly.

I think I did well in doing that, because it turned out, the dinner escalated into me privately wishing myself home.

And even after he had dropped me home, he insisted on walking me to my door, in a way that made me highly uncomfortable. I had grown rather exasperated now, and I had decided to shove manners under the carpet and bang the door in his face if he kept being pushy.

As it turned out, I didn't need to do anything at all.

I lead him to the stairwell – and when we got to my floor, I found a figure leaning on my door – and I was never happier to see John Reese in my life. No, not even when he saved my life.

Hey, Clary.

John moved forward to hug me. He had never hugged me.

Hello, John. When did you get here?

Just a few minutes ago. I was about to call you.

Um…

Never mind. Who's this fine man?

John turned towards my date and put his hand on my shoulder.

I introduced him to John. And – this is John, um, my, friend.

I clearly remember the expression - my date, looked quite flabbergasted, and I could understand why. John was an intimidating sort of person, and at that moment he was giving that guy all of his pointed attention so that my date began to feel very self-conscious. I would have pitied him, had he not put me through an ordeal of boredom and awkwardness earlier.

So, good night then. I said.

He mumbled a good night, and walked to the stairwell – and then I think he fled.

I laughed a little as the fast pitter-patter of his feet got dim, and I leaned into John, unconsciously. I realized it immediately, and I stood up straight. He took his hand off, and quietly waited for me to fish out my home keys from my purse.

So, bad date?

The worst, really.

Pompous, self-obsessed, chatty?

Yes! How did you-?

I heard your conversation in the stairwell.

That is why you glowered at him so much?

Is it called glowering these days?

Well, whatever it's called, it was much needed. He was – well, he's not a bad sort of fellow, but he behaves as if he's an old fellow seen the world already!

At this point, I happen to glance at John's face and see a strange expression.

After all, John isn't exactly a "young" man. You never really notice his age, because his silver hair suits him, his physique is lithe and supple, and he's always so – well, manly. I don't know what to call it, but you see him and you know he moves fast. Or at least I know.

That day I saw John in a completely different light. It's like growing up; we were in kindergarten, then primary school – and all of a sudden it's the high school prom, and the boy who always sat beside you, walks in the auditorium in a suit. He- he isn't just a boy anymore.

I didn't really know what to do with this sudden realization that day.

I invited John in, and he sat on the sofa, while I changed. We were so quiet, neither of us saying anything when I caught John looking at me.

It was a heavy moment – in the sense it was filled, with what, I don't know. But in it, I gazed at him, and he gazed at me.

And after a few moments, John stood up.

I have to leave.

What, now?

Yes.

We stand there, looking at each other, wordlessly.

Then he moves towards the door, and I follow.

Will you be back?

I don't know.

Okay, then. I'll see you.

He walked towards the stairwell, and then suddenly comes back.

Sure. I'll see you.

He said that, and then – he leans in towards me, and lands a soft, but firm peck on my cheek.

I stand there, bewildered, looking at his retreating figure.

What was he thinking? Why did he turn back?

Those two questions my mind kept asking the whole night, as I tossed and turned, never able to sleep. I think I was half-hoping that John would return.

There was something strange in his expression as he had leaned into me, and it scared me, moved me – it moved inside my heart like a piece of ice, cold and sharp.

I spent the whole night thinking about him, and I realized that I had never truly seen John Reese until today. How had I missed those eyes, which spoke before he did? His whole manner, which relaxed as he walked in through the door of my home, and stiffened as he walked out?

Did John Reese like me?

I had till today never bothered to question him or myself about why he comes to my home. I had assumed it was just about having some company. But now –

And then my mind asked me:

Do you like John Reese?

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

.

How does John Reese sleep?

Being an almost night-owl, I had seen John sleeping often. He slept very still – no movements, of any sort. He slept very light, too. He'd always awaken when I slipped into bed, no matter how softly I moved. He'd wake up at the slightest noise, or movement.

He would look cautiously at me, in the beginning, when we hadn't got used to another person in bed – as if I was a stranger. It was like a predator, unsure if I was in his herd or his prey.

But sometimes the sight of him asleep was very serene. I'm not a creep, I didn't stare at him sleep; but when I'd enter the room, he'd be in the bed, on his side, his tall form occupying the complete bed-length.

The side of the bed that was empty now, and had been, for eight days.

Since he'd done this before, I wasn't exactly worried. He had been away for two weeks before his last visit – But then I couldn't still understand why this absence was so noticeable to me – I know, you'll remind me – probably it's because of what happened the last time I saw John.

But I don't know if – I don't know what to think about it. Had it been another guy – but John isn't just some guy. I cannot understand or guess what he's thinking, or if him staying away is in any way related to – to that little kiss.

And so, I got up every day, moved through my routine, and came home at night, to wait, and sift through my memories of a night with John…

 _John?_

 _Yes, in here._

 _Would you like a cup of hot chocolate, or coffee before bed?_

 _I don't know._

 _I'm making some coffee for myself – I have some reading to do for my test._

 _Your test?_

 _Yeah, I'm taking an online literature course._

 _Wow. That's great._

 _So, Chocolate? I figure you don't wanna stay up; otherwise, I can make you a coffee._

 _Coffee's fine, thank you. I'd like to stay up – give you company. Do you mind?_

 _Oh, not at all._

.

Or another night…

 _..._

 _Hello, John! How long have you been waiting outside?_

 _Not long; here, let me help you with those._

 _Thanks. You know you can get inside without me, right?_

 _Yeah – but –_

 _What?_

 _But I'd rather not – not without your permission._

 _Oh John – if you ever need to wait long, just get inside, okay?_

 _That's alright._

 _Or maybe – I don't know – I might have a spare key around here somewhere._

 _It's okay, Clary. I can get one made whenever I want to._

 _Oh – What?_

His cheeky smirk that day was an entirely new expression on John.

.

.

.

It's been over two weeks now, and I am officially worried. Where is John? Why hasn't he dropped by? I have no way of contacting him directly – we never exchanged numbers, he just has mine – but all I have is Mr. Finch's number, and I am hesitant to call him.

What if John is avoiding me? I don't wanna know.

Why is this so important to me? Why do my thoughts go like this every day?

Why am I-

Realization dawns. Missing – that's the word.

I am missing John Reese.

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

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It had started feeling like John Reese had never entered my life – there were no signs of him in my home anymore, no visits.

But I knew that he had entered my life, and settled in it, and that I wouldn't forget it even if I tried – even if he didn't seem to be in it anymore.

I went on with my routine, my life, my work; the world didn't stop spinning, the food didn't lose its taste and life was still interesting, even if John wasn't there.

Why should it? I lived before John, and I can do so after –

But something keeps bugging me.

I've started sleeping on one side of bed.

I've begun startling at ever footstep in the corridor.

I've started keeping whiskey, in my house – I don't even drink whiskey.

I've – I've stopped myself short of calling Mr. Finch a thousand times, or from robbing a store just so he'd arrive there miraculously.

I – I think I know the answer to my earlier question, but I am unwilling to admit it.

I think maybe I – maybe I like John Reese.

And I can't take the wait anymore.

Hello?

Hello, Ms. Barton? Are you there?

Who is calling?

I'm Harold Finch, Mr. Reese's friend. And right now, Mr. Reese needs your help.

Oh. What- what do I do?

I understand you can drive? I need you to go to the – and wait for Mr. Reese to show up. You need to leave, now, there's a car waiting at the door of your building. Please, hurry Ms. Barton – and oh, leave the line on.

Oh-Okay.

.

Mr. Finch?

Yes, I'm here.

Is John okay?

I'm afraid not, Ms. Barton, but don't worry, John has a way of coming up after anything.

Alright Mr. Finch, I'm on the road.

Good, please let me know when you're there.

Oh my god, oh god – John!

I cannot help but worry as I start driving frantically.

Please, please let John be okay.

I'm here, Mr. Finch.

Oh good. John should be coming out of that building you see in front of you in a few minutes. Please drive away as soon as you pick him up.

Sure. okay.

Um – Ms. Barton? I really want to thank you for your help today. I wasn't sure you would be awake – or receive my call at this late hour.

It's quite alright, Mr. Finch. I've been up late anyway for a past few days. And please, it's Clary.

Of course, Clary. Why have you been unable to sleep?

It's – nothing. I don't know.

But I do know. The reason is –

The reason is the man I see running towards me, with a gun in his hand and wheeling a large box – as huge as a washing machine.

Hello, Clary.

Hi, John.

I didn't think I'd be seeing you here.

Neither did I. You need help opening that box?

No, it's almost done – Come out, Aaron. C'mon, get in the car, fast. Clary, Drive! Go left, into that intersection – then take a right again.

Okay.

Aaron, everything's going to be okay. Just hold on tight, alright?

Ok John.

.

Slow down the car, just a moment, when I tell you, okay?

Why?

Because I am going to shoot at the car following us out of the window.

What?

Now, Clary!

Did we lose them?

Thankfully yes. Good driving, clary, now don't slow down until we reach.

Alright!

It's really good to see you.

It's good to see you too, John, I was so worried.

No, it was all under control.

So are we all alright, Mr. Reese? Did you manage to get young Aaron out of the –

Yes, Finch, I got Aaron. We're bringing him to your place now.

Good. Well done, Mr. Reese. And thank you, Clary.

You're welcome!

Ok, Clary, we need to take another turn here – right – and go up that road.

Ok. So, who's the fine young man there?

This is my friend, Aaron Goldstein. He's recently been in some family tragedy.

But I'm okay – I have John now.

Yes, I know. Having John makes it okay – he helped me too, you know.

He did? Really? What happened? Did they shoot you? Or they attacked you? Or they kidnapped you? Was there a fight? John is so awesome! He can kick and punch and throw people – he fought four people at one time, and we ran away!

I felt like things were – okay again. I'd seen John, and that was all that mattered. Somehow, just knowing that he is near me, I feel much better. And this change of state of mind, made me realize exactly how much I had been worried about him. And about whether we were still – let's just say friends.

And I found out so much that day, about what John and Finch do, and - it made me respect John so much more. The kid, Aaron, he worships John for saving him out of the hellhole his life was becoming.

Hey, Clary. I'm – I'm sorry I haven't been by for a long time.

That's – I wondered where you might be. But it's alright, John. This house – brings back memories of when we first met.

I remember.

… Anyway, how have you been?

The same; same old life, same old days, you?

Same old life, same old days…

Well, your days turn out so much more interesting than mine.

That's true. But I'd rather have one of our days now.

.

Our Days?

My heart is jumping, small tiny jumps that I can hear out loud. And there is nothing else to be said.

Indeed these are our days, because no matter what we do, it's about being there, with each other – even if we do nothing.

.

Clary, I'm glad you were there today to help us out. I think Mr. Reese wants to take you home now.

Thank you Mr. Finch. I'm glad I could help out. If you don't mind me asking, what is going to happen to Aaron?

Oh – that's still a little bit of tangle. There are a few people out there, who pose a threat to him -

And I will deal with them tomorrow. For now, he'll stay with Finch, here. C'mon, we should get going.

Oh, okay. See you around, Mr. Finch. Tell Aaron I said goodbye, when he wakes.

Goodbye, Clary.


	9. Chapter 9

Clary? Clary?

Hmmm?

Wake up, Clary.

 _I blinked my eyes, to see myself being woken up rather hurriedly by John._

 _I'm a little surprised. It's been so many days since John had been here, was I dreaming?_

Good morning, John.

Good morning, Clary. I have to leave.

What?

I need to go, Aaron needs my help.

Aaron?

 _And things just came back to me: Aaron, me driving, John shooting at people….!_

Clary, are you okay?

Yes, John. I'm okay. Is Aaron-

He's with finch, but I need to-

Go. Yes of course. Just-

What?

Be careful?

Oh, Clary. I'm always careful.

 _John smiled at me, and left, almost running out of the house._

 _And I recalled yesterday evening._

 _John was back home._

.

Clary?

Yes, John?

How are you? really?

I'm mostly okay, John.

It feels nice, coming back, you know.

I – john?

Yeah?

I missed you.

 _Oh god, I feel foolish. I feel so much foolish. My heart was a little excited to see john and be home again, and I just said it out loud._

I missed you too, clary. I missed coming… home.

 _And just like that, I'm on top of the world._

.

Hello?

Clary? It's John.

Hi, John. Why are you calling?

Where are you?

I'm in my office. Why?

What time do you get off?

In a few minutes, what's wrong, John?

Nothing's wrong, really. I just need you – to help me out with a problem.

Oh. Oh sure. What is it?

I need a wife.

What?

It's for a cover - I - we - need to visit the organization where Aaron was living – but as parents, who are willing to adopt. That way I can gain access to their method of con. We are supposed to be the gullible couple who just wants a child desperately, so they'll look at us as prospective clients.

Ohhhh…. Okay, alright. But –

But what?

I'm a little scared – what if I –

You'll be fine – I'll be there.

Then I need not worry.

.


End file.
